He liked to read with the silence and the golden color of the whiskey as his companions. He liked food, people, talk, but reading was an inexhaustible pleasure. What the joys of music were to others, words on a page were to him.

Happiness is often at its most intense when it is based on inequality.

Life passes into pages if it passes into anything.

Sometimes I write with a particular person in mind. I think it's fair to say that I write for a perceptive reader. You have to get it. If you don't get it the first time you may not understand. If you like repetition, analysis, explanation, you probably won't like my books.

What is the ultimate impulse to write? Because all this is going to vanish.

Sometimes you are aware when your great moments are happening, and sometimes they rise from the past. Perhaps it's the same with people.

I'd given up everything to be a writer, and if I didn't then go on to do that - to write - then I didn't know what would happen to me.